


A Kind Of Winter Love

by SecondStarfall (beantiger)



Series: The Second Starfall Stories [30]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Comfort, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorks in Love, F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Fantasy, Flash Fic, Flowers, Fluff, Happy Ending, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Marriage, Medieval, Naked Cuddling, No Sex, Nudity, Original Character(s), Romantic Fluff, Size Difference, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22686553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beantiger/pseuds/SecondStarfall
Summary: Her own appearance—other than annoyance at her rather diminutive stature—was not something she had ever given much attention. Nonetheless, she found herself hoping that her betrothed found her beautiful, in whatever way Marlesse experienced beauty.***Two women discover each other in their own way.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: The Second Starfall Stories [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582975
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	A Kind Of Winter Love

**Author's Note:**

> **RECOMMENDED RE-READING:** Marlesse and Val got engaged in ["A Certain Necklace of Jade".](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059523) This takes place after that, though before they're married.
> 
> ✨ [[see the full SecStar timeline](https://secondstarfall.com/index.php/Official_Timeline) | [check out the SecStar wiki](https://secondstarfall.com/)] ✨

Winter had come to rest in the kingdom of Althussant. At the royal castle, in the chief guard’s private quarters, flowers—innumerable flowers—dangled from the ceiling like gently twinkling vines. Bunches of a dozen, two dozen. They shimmered with heat and light, and cast a pleasant on-off glow over the room.

“Hm. I’ve never seen anything like it. And I’ve seen a lot in my time,” said the chief guard, cross-legged on the floor as she watched the little white flowers flare and then dim again. Wonder glittered in her eyes. “Where did you find these?”

Her betrothed, the queen’s botanist, extended an arm out dramatically. She was an unusually small young woman, and she knew any attempt she made at self-importance looked particularly comical.

“Ah, my love,” announced the botanist, “I imported these _drasil_ from afar, from the great ice-cities at the top of the world, where the sun so rarely shines and even the shrubs on the plains must cache warmth…”

The chief chuckled. “You’re absolutely, positively pulling my leg, you terrible creature.”

“Pull your leg? How could I? It’s the size of a small wagon.”

As the botanist strode across the room, giggling into her elbow, her betrothed pounced from below, hastily locking her arms around the botanist’s waist. There was no getting out of that grip—the chief had the strength of a terrified ox...and yet all the mildness of an hours-old calf.

“Unhand me, brute! Evil-doer! Rake! Grizzly bear!” the botanist cried, falling into her love’s lap with a flail. Kisses peppered her cheeks.

When the assault let up, the chief said: “At least it’s _nice_ in here now. Comfortable. We wouldn’t have to strip down naked to survive the night like—”

Ah. 

Those words rang, and rang, and rang inside the botanist. _Naked,_ she thought. _Naked, and then...everything else._ The idea hurt her teeth. She shimmied out of the chief’s lap, feeling as though someone had left her sweating and exposed on a hillside.

“Good for my fingers, too. The warmth. Feel some numbness in them, sometimes.” The botanist, flexing her hands, moved back across the office to adjust the drasil.

From behind her came the chief’s voice:

“Oh. That was a ridiculous joke I made. You know how I can be, how thick-headed I am. It was a joke—I promise you…”

The botanist said nothing. Her knuckles cracked. She clutched the jade beads that always hung around her neck, that the chief had given her as a marriage promise a few months prior. The two of them had discovered a shared trait then...

From an early age, the botanist understood that her body remained cool and unresponsive despite certain lustful thoughts. The accompanying touches, too, did little to rouse her. She’d felt it would affect her already minuscule marriage prospects: she had never met anyone else like herself, not in all her twenty-five years. Not until the winds had whirled her into the chief’s life. 

It wasn’t about chastity—her flesh simply did not ask for passion. Neither did the chief’s, as it turned out.

But still, sometimes, the botanist wondered. Irrationally. Foolishly.

“Valériane,” said the chief. “I promise you—I meant what I said when I proposed. I don’t think I’ve felt such urges since my time in the military. I really was just being silly. Or attempting to be. I’m sorry.”

The royal botanist—Valériane—turned to face her fiancée, though her smile wavered weakly. “No, I am. I’m...being absurd. Yes, that’s a good word.” She cleared her throat, cleared her mind. Exhaled slowly. “Absurd, the kinds of feelings a few simple words can suddenly dredge up. Explosive, too. Like fireworks. I oughtn’t let it overwhelm me.”

The chief began to mouth _Please,_ but the botanist threw her arms around her neck, drawing her close. 

“You, on the other hand, ought to take a class in comedies or two from the bards, Marlesse. Might improve your jokes,” said Valériane.

Chief Marlesse wound a finger around the string of jade beads. The drasil’s yellowish light softly whirled across the little green orbs.

“I'm sort-of thinking on something, though,” the botanist added. “And forgive me if this is...impolite—”

“You? Impolite?” The chief glanced up at her from her cozy spot against Valériane’s chest.

Plopping down next to her betrothed, Valériane stared at her own hands. They ached. She did not know how to form words around her idea.

“Is it possible, do you think,” Valériane said, “to want—ugh—I despise the shaking in my voice right now. Do you hear that? Ugh.”

“Take your time.”

“Is it possible to want to be with someone, nude, but—not to make love?”

“Hm. I would say so. A body is a body,” Marlesse replied. “It’s a shell, I would say, and you, _you,_ would be the hermit crab inside.”

“A hermit crab is a fantastic metaphor for me, yes.”

“I’m talking _general_ you, Val, you little devil. Anyway—there are plenty of things to do with a body, or not. It’s a tool, I suppose, or a shelter. Nothing has to be lewd, I don’t think.”

In the gentle drasil glow, the royal botanist stood again and began to undress. Marlesse’s silence seemed light with something like—politeness, perhaps. Or awe. Or both. And when Valériane finished, she turned to the chief.

At first Valériane did not meet her love’s gaze. She watched her own body, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the gradual darkening and brightening of her own skin. Then she examined her bust, her hips. The scars on her torso from injuries she could not recall. The jade beads, which she had wrapped around her wrist. The sparse hair on her arms, which stood upright with gooseflesh even in the comfortable balm of the drasil heat. 

Her own appearance—other than annoyance at her rather diminutive stature—was not something she had ever given much attention. Nonetheless, she found herself hoping that her betrothed found her beautiful, in whatever way Marlesse experienced beauty.

The botanist looked up.

Her love tilted her head to one side, cheek on shoulder. Her smile had a quality to it that Valériane had not ever seen before, but that the botanist easily returned.

What did Marlesse find beautiful again? Night-time. Stars. Dark against light.

Ah, yes. Valériane remembered now.

She went to find a blanket in one of Marlesse's closets. Then she returned and saw that the chief had also removed her clothes. Valériane could not settle on one particular part of Marlesse—

—not the strength in her arms or her rugged skin—

—not the strangely delicate outline of her collarbone—

—not the way her hair fell around her cheeks—

—not the flatness of her belly, or the scars she too wore there—

—not the curve of her thighs—

—because she always came back to her betrothed’s eyes. Under the drasil, their color tilted from a pondwater teal to a springtime green, but they looked upon Valériane as if Marlesse had only just discovered her. Valériane let the quilt she'd gathered fall to the floor and absentmindedly stroked the beads around her wrist.

“What, am I standing at the end of a telescope to you?” asked the botanist, finally.

“Well, you _are_ twinkling.”

Valériane dove into her arms. They bundled together on the stony floor, savoring each other’s skin as they shared the quilt. 

It was winter in the kingdom of Althussant, and—underneath alien flowers, alien lights—two women were reminded why they had fallen in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or a kudos or whatever the heck if this tickled your fancy. There shall be more! ❤️ Also, please let me know what other characters, relationships, or places you'd like to hear about. I have lots of ideas, but I'd enjoy writing a few stories for y'all as well.
> 
> ✨ [[see the full SecStar timeline](https://secondstarfall.com/index.php/Official_Timeline) | [check out the SecStar wiki](https://secondstarfall.com/)] ✨
> 
>  **AUTHOR'S COMMENTARY:** Our favorite aces at it again. I love their banter.


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